Dear Chris
by Jewell Trim
Summary: Chris has been acting weird, leading to him drinking and getting injured during a robbery. It must have something to do with the letter he's been carrying around of late.


**A/N: I do not own the boys, I just have fun with them**

 **One shot story. No foreseeable sequel or continuation. Feel free to use this as a prompt.**

The town of Four Corners was still recovering from the recent attack by a gang of robbers about four days earlier. Most of the citizens were still talking about the fight that had occurred. Some were surprised after emerging from safety to find that the leader of the regulators had been injured. His arm was still in a sling after having the bullet removed by the town's healer and peacekeeper, Nathan. The man in black didn't say much after his injury, giving the occasional grunt and curse before stealing away to be left alone.

Some citizens were questioning how the man was able to get the drop on Larabee. Vin had just managed to shoot the man that had winged the blond. The men were grateful the lowlife was not a good shot. Inez, after being questioned by Ezra told him that Larabee had been drinking just before the bullets started flying. That was days ago though, now the man was sitting outside the saloon, right arm still pinned against his chest. His left hand was loosely holding a letter that looked a little worn. Chris wasn't reading it though, instead his gaze was staring off into the street as if he was far away.

JD sat close to the window of the jail across the street, watching the blond. Several people passed the man, but it didn't look like he registered them. The door to the jail opened and Ezra came inside, dusting off his jacket from the dirt that had accumulated on it when he was on his parole.

"How were things in town whilst I was entertained elsewhere? Fair I presume since there are no dead bodies lying around and none of you are hurrying around or in the saloon drinking away the day lost with nothing to do while another is injured with our gracious healer."

"Huh?" JD mumbled before looking away from the window, "Oh hey, no things are good here. Just wondering what's wrong with Chris is all."

Ezra looked to the man in question from the same window as the young sheriff, "I wouldn't pretend to know what our fearless leader thinks of in his own time."

"But he's been like that for a while now. I mean all day. Ain't seen him pick up a bottle yet which is out of character."

Ezra was about to point out that a person couldn't or shouldn't be defined by the actions that they normally did as part of their character, instead he shrugged, "Perhaps he just wants to have a clear mind."

JD let out a snort, but then felt guilty and apologized. Ezra only smiled before walking out of the jail and towards the saloon. He was anticipating a couple of games of poker before retiring for the night. Stepping onto the boardwalk, he paused to assess the man in black sitting a few feet away, not having turned or acknowledged him in anyway. If it wasn't for the fact that Chris had been doing this to everyone, he would've thought he did something else to have irritated the man. His eyes moved down to the letter that was sitting precariously on the man's thigh, the hand barely holding onto it. Part of him tensed when he registered the female cursive hand. The last thing the group needed was for the crazed Ella to taunt their grief-stricken leader.

Chris stood up, somewhat unsteady as he had to take a few seconds to regain his balance. The letter that he had been holding had fallen to the ground and he didn't seem to realize that he had dropped it. He moved to the boarding house, probably planning on retiring for the day.

Ezra bent over and picked up the stiff paper and couldn't help his eyes straying to the sender.

Laura Larabee.

Ezra wasn't sure what the expression on his face showed as he just stared at the name. Curious, he continued down and saw the first line.

Dearest Christopher, I wish I didn't have to tell you this through letter that your father passed away last week. I know you and him hadn't had the best relationship.

"Ezra…" Ezra looked up and saw Chris holding out his hand for the letter.

"I uh, apologies mister Larabee. I didn't mean to intrude. I was just…" Ezra was lost of what else to say.

Chris had family.

Chris didn't say anything as he took the letter back.

"Keep what you read to yourself Standish. Don't need the whole town knowing." Chris said in a low voice. It wasn't threatening, which was also strange.

"I just never occurred to me that you…"

"Had other family? Just the two now."

"You mother and…sibling?" Ezra guessed. It seemed the father was dead.

"Sister. Missy."

Ezra probably had his mouth hanging open by now. "Sister."

"Yeah, and if you tell any of the others or hell, Mary. I will know it was you and will hunt you down and put a bullet in that mouth of yours."

Ezra nodded, and Chris turned to continue on to the boarding house. Ezra followed him.

"So out of curiosity. But with no intention to tell anyone else, who is older?"

"Missy is. By two years."

"Does she look like you?"

"Standish—"

"Just trying to gain a picture of a female version of you." Ezra grinned.

"She's not like me. She's spirited and beautiful. That's why I won't let Buck near her." Chris gave a small smirk. "Though I think he'd meet his match with her."

"So will we ever meet Mrs. Larabee and your lovely sister?"

Chris shook his head, knowing that Ezra would probably be his sister's type that she'd fall for.

"No."

"Why? We could even conceal their identity or kept them at your ranch or…"

"The answer is still no."

The two continued to walk, Chris finally brought back from his memories of his father's abuse. He would have to remind himself to buy the gambler a drink, though not say why.


End file.
